Truth Avenged (Green Division Series Book 1) Page 3

  “Chance—” He tried to rouse her gently. “Chance, talk to me.” Nothing.

  “Son of a bitch.” He felt for a pulse. He couldn’t find one. “Chance, no, no, no. Come on, wake up. Wake up.”

  He jumped out of the truck and ran to the other side. “Ryan!” His voice was urgent, but Ryan and Mitch couldn’t hear him, not over the noise of the helicopter that approached. He opened the passenger door, stepped up, and tried again for a pulse; the truck was cramped with equipment making it difficult to access her. He stepped down and in doing so, caught his head on the laptop stand tumbling out of the truck and hit the ground hard. He recovered swiftly and scooped her from the truck, laying her limp body on the ground.

  THUB, THUB, THUB,

  The helicopter whirled overhead. Tuck felt her neck and found a weak pulse. Her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath she took.

  “Stay with me.” The sounds of the rotors covered his voice. His flashlight was on the ground pointed at her. He left one hand on her neck and watched her breathing, expecting her heart to stop at any moment. The dirt around them stirred in a frenzy as the helicopter descended toward the ground. He shielded her with his body, the dirt stinging his exposed skin.

  WOOSH, WOOSH, WOOSH

  The helicopter powered down and the dirt settled to the ground where it belonged. Every time he dead lifted her, it became more and more taxing. For the last time, he picked her up and carried her across the field, Mitch and Ryan flanked him halfway there. The medics opened the door to get out, but before they could do so, Tuck was there with her. He hoisted and the medics pulled her aboard, not the standard protocol by any means.

  “She went unconscious a few minutes ago,” he hollered to the medics.

  They went to work diligently securing her to a backboard then put a line in her arm. He watched one of the medics hook up some kind of monitor to her while the other cut away her shirt and evaluated her wound. Minutes later when they had everything done they needed to before takeoff, they were ready to leave. Mitch closed the doors and hit the glass giving them a thumbs up.

  “Tuck, let’s go,” Ryan yelled. “Tuck, come on!” Tuck didn’t move. Ryan and Mitch pulled him away and they jogged back to their trucks. LifeFlight lifted gracefully into the air and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

  “2354, Green.”

  “2354 go ahead.”

  “LifeFlight is 10-15 and en route to the hospital.”

  “10-4. We’ll advise 1910.” 1910 was the ambulance unit.

  “2354, 2351.”

  “I copied the traffic. I’ll be at the gatehouse in ten.”

  “10-4.”

  Chapter Two

  “Are you alright bud?” Mitch asked Tuck.

  “What?” Everything had become surreal.

  “Are you alright?” Mitch asked again.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” Tuck shook it off.

  “You need to get cleaned up man.” Mitch commented. Tuck opened the driver’s door and looked at himself.

  “Holy fuck.” It was an unnerving sight.

  “Jesus, you’re covered in her blood. Did you miss the training on universal precautions?” Ryan commented.

  “Do you have any water?” He ignored Ryan’s dig. Ryan retrieved it and Tuck washed himself off the best he could, then doused his hands in sanitizer.

  “How did you manage to get her blood on your head?” Mitch flashed the light on his buzz cut head.

  “Lean down.” Tuck obeyed and ran his hand over his head. “It’s your blood. What the hell did you do?”

  “I ah, I didn’t—” But the dull headache reminded him. “I hit my head on the laptop stand when I got her out of the truck.”

  Ryan leaned over him. “That’s going to leave a scar.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “You need stitches,” Mitch said.

  “Staples,” Ryan corrected.

  “Enough about the scratch on my head.” He changed the topic, filling them in on the minimal amount of information she’d been able to give him, minus the plane wreckage. Sergeant Kerr and a state trooper pulled in next to them.

  “What happened to your head?” Sergeant Kerr noticed the so called scratch from yards away.

  “He was being graceful as usual,” Ryan, the smartass of the troupe, chimed in.

  “It’s nothing,” Tuck defended.

  “You’re done for tonight,” Kerr said.

  “I’ll get it glued when we’re done here. It’s superficial. This is my case.”

  “It’s been reassigned. You’re injured, get it taken care of.”

  “Mike—”

  “Johnston.” He shifted into supervisor mode. He put his hand on Tuck's shoulder and led him away from the three other men.

  “Have you seen yourself?” He asked in a concerned tone. Tuck knew how he looked.

  “Go to the ER, get cleaned up.” Tuck shook his head, pissed at himself more than anything. Though he’d promised to stay with her, he wanted to catch the men who were responsible for her injuries. “Do you have next of kin information?”

  “She gave me her parent’s number. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Mitch,” Kerr summonsed 2353. “Bring him to the ER and give me a call when you guys clear.”

  “Will do,” Mitch said.

  “She left her hiking pack not far from the trailhead. She was adamant about getting it.”

  “We’ll get it. Now go. You should have jumped on board with the helicopter.”

  Tuck wished he had.

  Reluctantly Tuck got into the passenger seat of his truck and they headed toward civilization. Once on the main road, Mitch turned to go toward the local band aid station of a hospital.

  “Where are you going?” Tuck asked.

  “Uh, to the hospital?” Mitch wondered about the state of his partner.

  “Let’s go to Maine Med.”

  “That’s like an hour and a half from here. You need stitches, Newall should be able to handle that.” It was well known you didn’t want to go to Newall Hospital with anything more than a cut finger.

  “I’d rather go to Maine Med. More people walk out of there alive than Newall.”

  “Alright.” Mitch turned the truck around and headed toward Killingstone. He knew Tuck’s motives and they had nothing to do with his chance of surviving a laceration.

  Tuck pecked in the numbers for Chance’s parents and held his breath.

  “Hello.” A tired woman answered the phone. It was 4 a.m. by the truck’s clock.

  “I’m sorry to wake you so early in the morning ma’am. My name is Tucker Johnston, I’m a Maine Game Warden. Do I have Mrs. Phillips?”

  “Something’s happened to Chance.” Her voice changed instantly.

  “She’s being brought to Maine Medical Center now and—”

  “No no...Please tell me she is okay... Jacob, wake up...” Panic set into her mother’s voice before he could continue. Tuck assumed Jacob was Chance’s father. “No, no, tell me she’s alright. Please!”

  “Mrs. Phillips, calm down, take a deep breath.”

  “I’m sorry.” She followed his instructions. “What happened?”

  “She was injured in an incident with poachers while hiking yesterday.”

  “An incident with poachers…” It sank in. “Was she shot?”

  “She was shot in the abdomen.”

  Her mother tried to stay calm, but her panic was barely under the surface. “Is she going to be okay?”

  The hesitation in Tuck’s answer gave her cause to believe the answer was no. She began to cry.

  “She was in fair condition when LifeFlight took off with her.”

  “LifeFlight?” She repeated the words in shock.

  “Let me talk to him.” Tuck heard Jacob in the background. “Where is she being taken?” He asked Tuck.

  “Maine Medical Center in Killingstone.”

  “We’ll get plane tickets out as soon as we can.”

&nb
sp; “Where do you live, sir?”

  “Seattle.”

  “Washington?” That was a hell of a flight.

  “Yes. We won’t be able to get there until tonight at the soonest.” He sighed. “Where did she get shot?”

  “In the abdomen.”

  Silence.

  “Did you catch who did this to her?” Conviction was strong in his voice.

  “No, sir. All we know at this point is there were two men involved. The shooting happened in the afternoon, she spent several hours in the woods until her editor reported her missing.”

  “Paul.”

  “I’ll give you my phone number and you can call me direct if you need anything. Let me know when you are ready for it.” Tuck rattled off the number. Jacob gave him their cell numbers as well.

  “What’s your name?” Jacob asked.

  “Tucker Johnston, sir. I’m on my way to the hospital now. I’ll call you back with an update as soon as I have one.”

  “Thank you officer.”

  “You’re welcome.” Tuck was not an officer, but didn’t take offense to the comment.

  “That sounded like a hard call,” Mitch observed.

  “No different than any parent hearing their child has been shot.” Point made.

  The drive took a little more than an hour. Mitch managed to cut down the response time with his efficient driving skills, aka blue lights and a lead foot. They walked into the ER together garnering stares of everyone in sight.

  “Officer, uh, what happened to you tonight?” A short stout older nurse asked at the intake desk.

  “It’s not mine.” He looked down at his uniform. “I’ve been told I need a few stitches though.” He turned his head to show her.

  “Yes, young man you do. We’ll squeeze you right in here. Fill out this paperwork and I’ll be back with you in just a moment.” She walked back from the desk and out of view.

  “I think I’m going to take a ride to the D&D up the street and grab a coffee while they are putting you back together. Do you want anything?”

  “Coffee. Large black coffee.”

  “Coming up boss.” Mitch walked out the door. Tuck filled out the paperwork and the nurse reappeared.

  “Young man, come right on back.” She winked at him.

  “Thank you.” He followed her into one of the exam rooms where he waited at least ten minutes for a doctor to saunter in.

  “Mr. Johnston—” He stopped at the sight of the bloody uniform. “I was told you have a laceration on your head. Do you have any other injuries?”

  “No, sir. Is there a woman here who was just brought in by LifeFlight? Chance Phillips?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that.” He rolled his eyes to the left to indicate she was down the hall. “You were one of the rescuers I take it?”

  Tuck nodded his head.

  “Lean your head down.” The doctor ordered. Tuck obeyed.

  “I found her. How is she?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Is this all your blood?”

  “Hers.”

  The statement didn’t throw the doctor.

  “Let’s start by taking your shirt off. I’ll get a bio bag for you, though you’d be smarter to throw the shirt and cut your losses. The state can waste the money to buy you a new one; they are good at wasting money.” The doctor had a very dry sense of humor.

  Tuck stripped the shirt off and then the vest putting them next to the bed. The doctor ran through a list of medical questions, followed by checking Tuck for any sign of head trauma beyond the cut. When he was done his assessment, he stood up.

  “Have you had staples before Mr. Johnston?”

  “No, sir.”

  “We don’t have many options for closing wounds on the skull such as the one you’re sporting. It’s either glue, or staples. With the depth of your laceration, you aren’t a candidate for the glue.”

  “Of course.” That was his luck thus far tonight, shitty.

  “It should take a dozen, maybe a few more to close the wound.”

  “Do what you have to do.”

  “You’re an easy man to get along with.” The doctor smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

  After a few minutes, the doctor was back as promised, unfortunately. Having a staple gun used on his head was high on the list of disgusting events in Tuck’s life.

  “Good as new,” the doctor commented after the medieval medicine was performed. He gave Tuck instructions on how to clean the wound and told him to make an appointment to get the wound checked out by his local physician in a few days. His staples would be removed within two weeks.

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you going to be here for a while, or are you off duty for the night?”

  He was done for the night and should go home.

  “I’m going to stay until you have good news, or if it’s the alternative, until her family arrives.”

  “I will make sure a doctor gives you an update when she comes out of the OR.”

  “Thanks.” The young sarcastic doctor walked out of the exam room and Tuck escaped to the waiting room. Mitch had his feet propped up in a chair, hand wrapped around his coffee, reading the morning newspaper. The sun rose outside sending a salmon blaze through the window.

  “How’d you make out?”

  “Sixteen staples.” Tuck’s wound was covered by a white bandage.

  “When you do something, you go for the gold.” He sipped his coffee and smiled. “Any news on the girl?”

  “Nothing.” He sat next to him.

  “Have you called Sarge?”

  Tuck pulled out his phone and dialed without answering the question.

  “Hi Mike. We’re still at the ER. I talked to her parents and they are taking the first flight they can get out of Seattle.”

  “Seattle, Jesus.”

  “I know. Have you found anything?”

  “We’re waiting for sunrise. Hard to look in the dark when you don’t know what you are looking for to begin with. Any update on her?”

  “Still waiting.”

  “How did you make out?”

  “Sixteen staples.”

  “Just a scratch, huh Johnston?”

  “A big scratch.”

  “Instruct the ER to notify us if her medical condition declines, or improves and have Mitch take you home. When did your doctor say you can come back to work?”

  “Anytime.”

  Kerr huffed. “Do you have a follow up appointment?”

  “In a couple days.”

  “You’ll feel those staples when the Novocain wears off. Check in with me after your follow up. You’re off until then.”

  “Alright, sir.” He wasn’t going to argue; a few days off sounded pretty damn good at that point.

  “Not going to argue with me this time?”

  “No. We’re on the same page.” Tuck was where he wanted to be. There was a lynch mob in the woods looking for the perpetrator, but no one at the hospital.

  “Put Mitch on the phone.”

  Mitch and Kerr talked for only a minute before the phone was passed back into his hand, along with his large coffee.

  “Thanks.”

  “Time to call it a night for you. Let’s go.”

  “Are you going back up the ridge?”

  “Kerr has given me a strict command to drop you off, then head up.”

  “I’m staying until her family gets here. I don’t care what Mike says. He’ll get over it.”

  “I figured you’d say that.” He took another sip. “That’s why Molly is on her way over here to pick me up.” Molly was Mitch’s sister.

  “You know me too well.”

  “That I do. Always doing the right thing, even though you bitch about it the entire time.” He looked out at the parking lot. “She made time.”

  “She drives like her brother.”

  “Easy now. Good thing I called her when we first got here, or your ass would be up a creek.” He stood up. “Call me if you need anything.”<
br />
  “Thanks for everything tonight.”

  “Anytime.” Mitch walked out of the ER. Tuck propped up his feet and made himself comfortable. He knew it would be a long wait.

  A half hour later as he fought off sleep, he remembered Chance’s editor. Shit. He got the number from dispatch and dialed.

  “Paul Marston,” the man answered quickly.

  Hi, it's Warden Johnston.”

  “Did you find her?”

  There was no beating around the bush with her editor.

  “I did. She’s being evaluated at Maine Medical Center.”

  “How—where did she get hurt?”

  “She was injured in a shooting incident.”

  “She was shot, no, who would…” Paul’s disbelief emanated. “Is she alright?”

  “She’s alive. I’ll keep you up to date with any information I get.”

  “I, ah, I can’t cancel the meeting I have this morning, they’ll fire my ass for sure. Shit!”

  “Woah, woah, woah. Hold on. Calm down Paul.”

  “I’m trying. I didn’t expect you to tell me she’d been shot.”

  “Her parents are flying out this morning. I’m going to stay here until they arrive. So go to your meeting, I have your number. When I get an update on her condition I’ll let you know.”

  “I should be there. It’s my fault this happened to her.” Yup, it is, Tuck thought silently. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thank you so much.”

  “No problem.” It was hard for Tuck to be nice to this man. He wasn’t the one who’d caused her harm, but he was the man that led her directly into it. He brought his vest and uniform shirt back to the truck and jumped into the driver’s seat. Even with the blankets, her blood had soaked through the cushion. He leaned his head back on the headrest and played back the night’s events. He could have gotten suited up quicker when he got the call and he didn’t have to stop for coffee. He could have stepped up his response time. Hopefully those factors would not make a difference between her living and dying.

  Hours passed. Her parents had called, but Tuck regrettably had no information to pass along. They took it as good news. No news meant she was alive. On the contrary, Tuck took little solace because it meant it wasn’t an easy fix.

  11 a.m.

  Tuck coddled his third cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria. Calling the drink coffee was questionable. It was brown soup labeled as coffee. The once empty waiting room was loud and buzzed with people. A wailing two year old across the room amplified his headache. The same young doctor who’d kindly stapled Tuck back together entered the waiting room. He took a seat next to him, his demeanor upbeat.